


The Original Comedian

by TT40_Angst_Queen



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries - L. J. Smith, Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Family Cast, M/M, Vampire Ryan Stiles, Warlock Greg Proops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10316114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT40_Angst_Queen/pseuds/TT40_Angst_Queen
Summary: Long ago, before modern technology, before comedy, when the Mikaelson’s were only human, innocent and free, they had an older brother. One that took care of them, soothed their hurts and comforted them during bad nightmares. MAJOR CHANGES, PLEASE RE-READ IF YOU READ THIS STORY BEFORE!!! thanks to my beta-  almy9306 , wonderful girl, thank you so much!!!





	1. Important note please read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major changes to the fanfic. Please reread if you have read the chaptered version.

Major changes to the fanfic. Please reread if you have read the chaptered version.


	2. Chapter 2

Long ago, before modern technology, before comedy, when the Mikaelson’s were only human, innocent and free, they had an older brother. One that took care of them, soothed their hurts and comforted them during bad nightmares. He was the steady rock that held the family together and happy, with him being the oldest at thirty-nine years old, he was responsible for all his younger siblings. The oldest he took care of being Finn at 26 years old. And he was the easiest to take care of, considering he could take care of himself fine. The youngest being Henrik, at 9 years old.  It was quite the responsibility, taking care of 6 siblings, and having done so from the beginning. he took the job with an air of joy, and with him inheriting his mother’s magik, it was easier then it would usually be for a lot of young men, even though back then at that age he should have been both married and had adult children of his own. Even Finn had a fiancé, and that was later than usual. Though Finn was the only one.

He took care of them and they loved him; His siblings and his parents, until the night of that hateful ritual to turn them into immortals.

He went along with the ritual, his fear of not being there for his siblings when they lived through the ages making him follow along without complaint.

But something went wrong that night, and it was thought that for him the ritual had failed, and he had died instead of being reborn. He was buried, and weeks later, awoke and dug himself out of his own, crude grave.

Ryleian Stial Mikaelson awoke scared, immortal, and hungry.

 The first thing he discovered was the blood. The life-giving substance that was now his source of food, what kept him alive. He didn't know what was wrong with him at first, the constant burning of his throat, the continual empty feeling in his stomach, gnawing at his insides like a poisonous plant, and he spent days searching for something to sooth it, before finding a small village, and asking the local shaman for help. The sound of blood rushing through their veins, the smell nothing like the iron scent of his mortal life, but now an irresistible ambrosia, drawing him in like a delectable feast to a starving man. He tried to resist, to fight the urge, but in the end his will broke, and despite his anguish, he blacked out, and when he awoke, the whole village was slaughtered by his own hand, drained of their lives blood. After that he learned to only take what kept him alive, healthy, and strong after that, compelling them to forget, the most useful thing of all, so that they wouldn’t send a mob after the monster.

 

For many centuries, he tried to find his siblings, but they alluded him. Finding out from whispers from other created vampires that his father was hunting them all down, trying to kill his siblings was heartbreaking. His father and he were close, when he was alive. Him being his first child when his father was 17. The sudden anger he felt for his father was shocking, but he didn't care to change it. Nobody tried to harm his kin, father or no.

He spent three centuries trying to find his siblings, before giving up, leaving clues, subtle ones, to show he was alive, and changing his name multiple times. He kept himself as up to date as he could on their bloody trail through history, and found himself disgusted, horrified, and angry at what his once gentle and loving siblings were doing. He no longer knew how he would react when he eventually did meet them, he hoped, deep down, that by then they would change. One thing he discovered about living so long is that you collected a lot of money.

He was known for many years until 1867, as Rian Sty Leals Jr. He had been Sr. when he first used the name, but he ended up reusing the name for 667 years, being a rich man, and heir to the man when it was time to pretend to die, and played his son, then the son of the son, and so on. He was a rich man, and a lord, living in England the whole time.

The only mystery was the confusing continued existence of his Magik, something his mother had said would disappear with his immortality. He was a hybrid. A warlock, and a vampire. An impossibility. An anomaly. He had a few ideas, but nothing concrete on why his magik continued to defy the laws of nature

In 1867, it was the year he had had to fake his death once again, and this time he couldn’t stand doing the same charade over again, most of all when he found out about the vampire hunts in America in the town that he used to live in when he was still human. It was now known as Mystic Falls.

He lived in England for the next hundred years, living underground, staying low, using his compulsion to keep his fortune safe in a vault, and only sparingly spending what he had to. When they invented blood bags, his relief was great. He wouldn’t have to attack anyone for his food, and he could just compel a human to give him a bag of the stuff, and he would be sated until it was time to feed again.

He ended up compelling a childless couple in 1983 that he was their son, and created his new identity as Ryan Lee Stiles.

In 1984, he met Colin Mochrie, who introduced him to improv. The rest they say, well, it’s not exactly history, is it?

 

* * *

 

 

The year is 2014, and the cast was finishing up the last day of filming for the new series of _Whose Line Is It Anyways?_ a show that was a source of great joy in his life.

As they finished the last scene, and as he signed his last autograph, Ryan made sure that Colin, Greg, Wayne and Aisha were distracted by fans, and nobody was looking, he used his supernatural speed to get to his dressing room and specifically, his fridge. Even though he had just fed two days ago, the constant use of his magik keeping him looking older, as well as his friends, since some of them were in different country’s entirely, was draining him greatly.  He was close on getting the last ingredients he needed to use in a spell that would be permanent, unless he willed it on or off. But until then, he needed to make sure that nobody knew himself and his friends were not aging, least of all his friends themselves.

When he first decided to make his friends semi-immortal (they would not age, and would heal faster, but they were not at the level of vampire invincible.) he spent weeks wondering if he should tell his friends what he was, and what he did to them, but eventually talked himself out of it, his fear of losing those he considered his second family. Well… Colin was a different story, he was… closer than that.

Considering they were married.

His wedding ring glinted in the light as he reached into his mini fridge, the one with the lock on it that he had spelled people to notice, but not wonder about it too much. Bringing out a blood bag, he sighed, relaxing into the leather couch, he took his first few sips of the blood, the red liquid returning all the energy the last two days had taken from him, and a bit more. Must be O+.

So caught up in getting to his food, he had forgotten to lock his door, and so relaxed, he didn’t notice it opening, not until a gasp caused his eyes to widen, and he turned around to see Colin shutting the door behind him, Greg standing beside the balding Canadian.

Ryan cursed out loud.

“Ryan-? What-your face- Is that blood?!” Colin stuttered, his face paler than it usually was. Colin was trembling slightly, his own wedding ring glinting in the light. His eyes were wide and shocked, the connection they shared, but never questioned, told him that for the first time since they met, Colin felt fear because of him. It wasn’t a good feeling.

Ryan dropped the empty bag, and felt his face go back to its normal human appearance.

“Col…” For once, Ryan was lost for words, and couldn’t think of anything to say, for the first time in a millennium. Ryan felt his world collapsing in front of him, the one he had so carefully built around him, the one that made him happier than he had ever been since he became immortal. He felt suddenly lightheaded, as if he hadn't just eaten, his vision darkening, and if it wasn’t for Greg’s next words, he most likely would have blacked out.

“You’re a Vampire.”  Greg’s blunt words, said with a flat tone, shocked him completely. He couldn’t believe that Greg knew what he was. He gasped for air that he didn’t need.

“How-?” Ryan stuttered out, his hands shaking, almost hyperventilating. Ryan wondered why Greg was so calm, standing there and staring at him with an assessing look behind his tinted lenses. His own ring, a match to Jeff’s, was being twisted in his hands, the only sign of emotion in the otherwise blank-faced man. 

“How long?” The words were spoken sharply, but not unkindly, and Ryan could hear a hint of worry underneath, causing Ryan to relax a little. But one look at Colin’s face, his cheeks streaked with tears, caused him to stiffen, his shoulders tensing.

“What-?” Ryan stuttered, his brain not working properly in his shock. Greg flashed his teeth, a snarl on his lips.

“ _How long ago were you turned?_ ” Greg hissed between clenched teeth. Colin stuttered, and grabbed Greg’s shoulder.

“Greg, what-what is going on-?” Colin said shakily, refusing to look directly at Ryan. Ryan felt his heart break in two. He never wanted to hurt Colin, ever. And now he was making him cry and fear him, though he could tell that Colin now felt worry for him as well.

Greg shrugged off Colin’s hand, then grasped it in a tight grip, causing Colin to wince, and Ryan would have growled if he didn’t think it would scare his husband. Greg took a step forward, and Ryan could smell the raw anger, grief, and worry that saturated Greg’s very being. Ryan flinched.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on Colin.” Greg growled, not taking his eyes of Ryan’s trembling form, as if he would break any moment.

“Someone had the balls to attack my best friend, drain his blood, give him theirs, then kill him. Turning him into a vampire.” Greg snarled, and Colin winced, his eyes getting wider with each word, dawning realization of trivial things that Ryan knew Colin had dismissed, like his fear of Doctors, his fear of blood, and his tendency to never get sick, even though Ryan’s back was bad, which wasn’t faked.

“So, I’m going to ask again Ryan, when were you turned, and who the fuck killed you!” Greg was seething, his eyes narrowed and wild.

Colin gasped when Greg’s words registered, and he ripped his hand from Greg’s grip, stumbling over to Ryan. Feeling what Colin was about to do, he cut off the magik that made it seem like he had a heartbeat and a pulse, and watched, almost disconnected, as Colin put his head to Ryan’s chest, searching fruitlessly for the sound he loved to hear. Ryan could tell when Colin realized that he no longer had a heartbeat, by the tightening of his husband’s grip on him, and the sob that fell from Colin’s lips. He shifted, gazing up at Ryan through tear filled eyes.

“Ryan-?” He choked out, eyes wide, pure aguish in his eyes and voice. Ryan’s brain suddenly kicked into gear, the realization that Greg thought someone had killed him, recently anyways, and turned him without the man knowing about it, caused him to lift Colin gently, his back twinging slightly, a reminder of a time of nothing but pain, another reason to avoid his birth family, and placed him on the couch.

Striding over to his dressing table, he grabbed a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep breath, relaxing as the smoke filled his lungs. Ryan sighed, before turning towards both men, and he took a breath before dropping the glamour that made him look 54.

“I was turned over one thousand years ago.”

Both Colin and Greg stumbled back, shock and confusion on their pale faces. Colin seemed more shocked then confused, seeing his husband suddenly fifteen years younger, his face as youthful as when they first met.  He couldn’t tell what exactly shocked Greg, but he could see the wheels turning in the head of the man he called his brother.

Suddenly, Greg’s face turned ashen, and he could tell that Greg felt the first stirrings of fear when he gasped out;

“O-Original…” Greg took a hesitant step towards Colin, as if to protect him. Ryan’s heart sunk.

“I won’t hurt you,” Ryan whispered, his voice trembling, staring pleadingly at Greg and Colin.

“Ry? What…. An Original-what does that mean?” Ryan could only stare pleadingly at his Mate, hoping he could tell he wouldn’t hurt him and that he could still trust the man he married twenty-two years ago.

Colin seemed to have made up his mind after staring at Ryan for a few minutes of tense silence, and stepped closer to the vampire, not noticing Greg’s slight hand movement as if to stop him from getting close to him.

Colin grasped Ryan’s hand, and gently dragged him to the couch, as if Ryan would break. Despite being over a thousand years old and stronger then all of them, his human family always made him feel human and alive in a way he hadn’t for so much of his life. Colin gently sat Ryan down on the couch, curling up at his side and rubbing Ryan's hand in soothing circles. Greg followed, giving the pair a look of concern. Ryan stared into the eyes of his beloved Mate, and he marveled at the depth of love and trust he found in those eyes.

“I trust you Ryan, with my life,” Colin took a breath, smiling at Greg, who saw something in Colin’s eyes, and nodded at the tall vampire.

“Me too, Ry. Sorry I doubted you, broheim…” Greg sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. Ryan followed the movement, noticing that the trembling that was once present in his old friend’s body was now gone. Another sign that showed that he no longer feared him.

“It's fine, I would too…” Ryan whispered, his lips twisted in a bad facsimile of a smile. Colin stared at Ryan, his brown eyes wide and trusting, a million questions swirling in their depths, but he only said two words;

“Tell us.”

He told them everything, from his childhood, to his siblings, his magik, finding out his brother was his half brother, and raising his siblings. How two of his brothers fought over a girl that strung them along like a children’s beaded necklace with heartless abandon. He told them about the ritual, and the experience of digging himself out of his own grave, and the fear he now had of being buried, and closed spaces, causing Greg to curse and grasp the hand that wasn’t currently being held in a white knuckled grip by Colin that would have surely hurt him if he were human. He told them about his confusion upon waking, immortal and scared, the hunger that gripped him like an iron fist, and hung his head in shame when he recounted the twenty people he had killed before learning control. 

 

Colin smiled at him, a sad look in his eyes.

“I’m not angry at you,” Colin started softly, before Greg said his piece;

“Neither am I Ry-guy.” Ryan Smiled at them, and reminded himself how lucky he was to have ever met these people.

“You couldn’t control yourself man, you blacked out. Yeah, it sucks major man-bags that you drained them, but man, that was over a thousand years ago. It wasn’t your fault. Vampires can't control themselves when they are that young, not to mention that starved. Don’t blame yourself.”

 

He told them about living as a rich lord for 667 years, admitting that he was more than rich enough to live for a millennium more without working a day in his life, he told them about deciding to live on practically nothing from 1867 on, when he heard about the Vampire hunts in his hometown of Virginia, the loneliness that he felt, and the elation when he met Colin, and discovering he was his Mate. His joy when he discovered that improv was something he was good at and loved. His fear when he fell in love with Colin, fearful that he would hurt him somehow, bite him, or hurt him with his strength. His euphoria when he married Colin, married his soulmate. How he had to hide his diet. His fear at being discovered.

“There’s a couple things I don’t get.” Greg cut the contemplative silence the enveloped the room. Ryan looked up from Colin snuggling in his arms, where he had been since the middle of his tale. Ryan couldn’t think of anything he hadn’t explained… except…

“How do you have magik? And walk in the sun? I thought Vampires burned in the sunlight, unless the have jewellery to stop it. And magik…. Its supposed to disappear when you’re turned into a vampire.” Greg screwed up his nose, and narrowed his eyes behind purple tinted glasses.

Ryan was about to answer Greg’s question, as he could see why he would be confused, because both facts were true. But before the words left his lips, something occurred to him.

“How the hell do you know so much Greg?” Ryan demanded. He didn’t snap at him, he wasn’t mad. He trusted Greg’s much as he trusted Colin; with his life. He knew Greg would never intentionally hurt him.

Greg shifted uncomfortably under Ryan’s stare, and Colin, seeing the sense in Ryan’s inquiry, also gazed curiously at their long-time friend.

It seemed like Greg was struggling with some inner battle that Ryan could see raging behind his eyes. He could smell the tense and sweaty scent of apprehension and nervousness that covered Greg.

Greg reached over and grabbed one of the old feather pillows that sat on the couch. Those pillows had been here since before they took over the studio with _Whose Line_ , and had the ugliest floral pattern that ever existed. So Ryan wasn’t too upset when Greg suddenly ripped it open, spilling its feathery innards everywhere. The only protest he would have had would be the mess, if it was not for Greg’s next actions.

The spectacled man raised his hand, narrowing his eyes, and Ryan and Colin watched in shock as all the feathers started floating around, dancing to an invisible tune that only Greg could hear. Knowing him, it was probably something classical.

“I’m a Warlock.”

 Ryan supposed he should have been more shocked at Greg’s reveal, but then again, there was always something mystical about Gregory, and if any one of his friends were to be a magik wielder, he supposed the very eccentric and strong-willed, opinionated Greg would be one. Greg did give off an otherworldly aura. Ryan had ignored that when he first started getting to know Greg, thinking it was just Greg’s eccentric nature and Ryan’s lack of interaction with humans in many years, that muddled his senses.

He should have known better.

They spent a few hours going over details, and deciding, ultimately, to not tell the rest just yet.

Their reaction to knowing that Ryan had been keeping them young and safe was very amusing. Greg spent quite a bit of time in front of Ryan’s mirror, primping and admiring his returned looks and weight from 1995, marvelling at his thinness and his young skin. Colin especially loved the return of allot of his hair, even if he was still balding. He frowned at the grey, but decided he liked it more than the white.

They eventually went their separate ways, Ryan and Colin went back to their LA house, which admittedly was more like a mansion.  Greg went back to his own LA apartment. Ryan and Colin would have gone back to Bellingham, but Greg and Jeff had moved to LA recently after getting tired of being so far away from the _Whose Line_ family. It seemed that LA drew all of them in, hell, even Drew lived in LA, still going strong at visiting the Playboy Mansion. Ryan was glad Drew’s weight loss traveled over to his younger appearance, or else when Drew eventually found out, he would kill Ryan. Well, try to kill him.

It was a couple of weeks before the warning call came.

* * *

 

“-and then Brad said; ‘Are we really doing this?’. He said it like he was surprised we actually were making him sing to her instead of serenade her from the audience, and Drew just lost it-”

The ringing his phone interrupted Ryan’s story telling of the Drew days of _Whose Line_.  Picking it out of his pocket, he checked the caller ID and froze, the breath almost leaving his lungs, or it at least felt like it. Colin’s concerned touch to his shoulder and his murmured inquiry to his health, a useless sentiment, but heartwarming nonetheless.

**_CALL FROM_ **

**_TONY.S._ **

Tony Slattery. The last time Ryan had seen the man who was like a younger brother to him, he was just getting the hang of being a vampire. Ryan had to turn him, or Tony might have died with his latest OD. Tony, despite his addict tendencies, was one of the most well controlled vampire’s Ryan had ever seen when newly turned. He killed one person only, and that person was a killer themselves, having murdered someone right in front of them.

THAT man’s blood, Tony later told him, tasted like something a cow had shit out.

Nowadays, Ryan and Tony contacted each other only out of necessity, what with Tony having found a way to get inside his younger brother Nicklaus’ inner circle of minions. Tony, in fact was his right hand. Ever since they had dealt with that doppelganger by way of turning her after drawing her of her blood, they had plenty, Tony said, for his brother to make hundreds of armies of Hybrids. After all, they only needed a drop.

Ryan would have met up with his brother before now, but according to Tony’s report only a five years ago, Nicklaus had gone slightly insane on his quest to gain his hybrid status. It had been only occasionally during those five years since Tony had contacted him, having had to almost cease contact with him till Nik regained his sanity, hopefully. Because Nik would have been on high alert for any traitors. The _very_ last thing he wanted was for his _Childe_ to be killed because of his need to be close to his brother, even if it was only through second hand information. He thought of Tony like a son, and having a part of him responsible for his death would kill him inside.  He didn’t know why Tony was calling him now, but he had a feeling he wasn’t gonna like it.

Sliding his thumb along the answer button on the touch screen, he ignored Greg’s inquiries and Colin’s questioning eyes, and brought the phone to his ear.

“Tony?” He whispered. He felt Colin stiffen next to him, and heard his intake of breath and Greg’s gasp.

“ _Ry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t-he found my phone. He looked up the show-he recognized you. I’m sorry, I couldn’t- Elijah and Niklaus left a week ago, I just woke up yesterday, I’m on my way to your house, don’t move, I stopped them from finding your location, your spell is still working, but he got a witch working on breaking it… I’m so sorry, I'll be there in five minutes, would have been earlier but this damn American traffic-bloody driving on the wrong side of the road-watch it asshole! - and bloody slow drivers. Just, hang in there, and_ lord, _I hope you have told your husband about you because he will get a huge surprise otherwise. I’ll be there in three minutes-watch it you yank!”_ CLICK.

Ryan only realized accidentally had the phone on speaker when he heard Greg’s loud “Well Shit.”

“Ry Honey? What’s going on? Was that Tony Slattery? He’s supposed to have died ages ago, they said it was an OD…”  Colin’s eyes had a multitude of questions, and looking at Greg’s white, drawn face, full of fear, he could tell that the Warlock knew exactly what that phone call was about.

“Yes, Tony is alive, I turned him when he almost died from his last OD. We faked his death, and then I told him what I told you. Tony and I were always close, and he felt like a son to me, which he felt the whole time he knew me, and man did it confuse him.” Ryan chuckled, remembering the many times Tony’s confusion on the fact, but also his confusion on his own comfort in the feelings. “He finally found out when I told him my story. It took a year of him seeing me moping about before he volunteered to go find my brother, and he wouldn’t budge. He did find him, and despite my protests, he infiltrated his inner circle, and became Niklaus’s right-hand man, keeping me updated for years, until Nik went practically insane five years ago, and had to cease contact for risk of being discovered as an informant.”  Ryan shook his head.

Greg growled, stalking over to Ryan’s, he threw open the top left drawer, and reaching in, grabbed a bottle of aged whisky that he knew Ryan had in there for stressful occasions. The bottle was surprisingly unopened. Greg always did wonder how Ryan got an 1832 bottle of whisky. He guessed he knew now. Opening the bottle with more force than was necessary, he poured a generous amount in one of the fancy crystal glasses that looked older than Greg was, chronologically anyways. He still wondered how Ryan put a spell on him without him noticing. He wasn’t an exactly a weak Warlock, in fact, he was damn strong if he said so himself. That was the main reason he was so afraid of the Original family. He knew that if they caught wind of him and his power, the last thing they would do it just ignore him and let him go on his merry way, singing in the cornfields and going about his life. Yeah, no.

They would force him to work for them, not liking that someone of his power was not on their side. They would bind him by blackmail, magik, whatever they had to, to make sure he would never be used against them.

And now his effort had gone to goddamned waste. The fucking tyrannical dictator vampire family that started it all was on their way. He voiced his thoughts.

“And now Tony has been discovered. And we’re screwed.” Greg said flatly. Ryan could see that while his face was blank, Greg’s eyes were full of terrified fear and horrid anger. Suddenly, Greg grabbed one of Ryan’s newer vases, something he only bought because it matched his couch, and threw it across the room, that shatter of glass sounded loud in the room.

“Greg-” Ryan began, but was interrupted by Greg shouting unintelligibly.

“ _NO!_ ” Greg shrieked, his voice higher than he had ever heard it. Greg had seemed to completely lose it, panic and terror written on his face.

“They _terrify_ me Ryan. You want to know why?” Greg shouted, not seeming to notice that the whole room was shaking, his terror making his magik react.

“Greg, -” Greg didn’t let Ryan finish his sentence, or even begin it, to set in his terror and panic stricken speech to realize he was even talking.

“They terrify me, because I’m powerful! Weird huh, you would think that because I’m so powerful, I could take care of myself, right? No, because that isn’t the way things work! A lot of countries were more powerful than Germany during the Nazi war, but that didn’t matter, did it? Because Hitler had followers, connections, charisma, and ruthlessness. Sound fucking familiar _Ryleian_? It should, because your family are fucking Dictators! And they will fucking use me to further their goddamned Human-fascist kingdom! They are power hungry, and I have plenty of that in spades. I have spent my whole life not letting anyone control me, I won't change that now.” Ryan knew that he should be offended, but he really wasn’t. From what he heard of them from Tony five years ago, his family wasn’t far from being a family of Hitler-like dictators.

Ryan got up, ignoring the shaking room, making sure Col was fine, and grabbed Greg in a hug. Gripping him tight, he carefully wrapped Greg in a calming spell, careful to not panic the man further.

It took awhile, but the room, and Ryan suspected at least the surrounding area around his house, and most likely the city, stopped shaking.  He rubbed Greg’s back, and grabbed his face in his hands, and kissed his forehead, staring into the tearful, youthful eyes of his brother.

“Listen to me, Greg. You’re my brother, you have been since a month after we met, you have been there for me and Col since we met. We have been through thick and thin together, all of us, and if you think for one _second_ ,” he shook Greg’s shoulders, his eyes hard as flint, “One fucking _second_ , that I would let my other family hurt you or use you in any way, you’re mistaken my friend. They would have to get through me first.” Colin’s hand on Greg’s shoulder startled the man, but the warm brown eyes and smiling face relaxed him.

“They would have to get through me as well. You’re a brother to me too, Greg.” Colin softly kissed Greg’s forehead, Greg’s eyes closed, his eyelashes fluttering in comfort and pleasure.

“It will be fine, Greg. We are all here for you. You’re not alone.” Ryan said softly into Greg’s Buddy Holly hair. He rubbed his nose into the shorter man’s temple, scent-marking him, and taking in his scent, cigarettes, weed, and vodka, with the musty smell of books and the smell of the city at night after rainfall.  A scent so unique to Greg, yet so much like him.

“They would have to get through myself as well, Gregory.”

Tony’s voice made them jump, and they immediately started bombarding him with hugs, not having seen him since the UK version of _Whose Line_. Sure, Ryan had talked to him, but he hadn’t _seen him_. Whole, alive, healthy. And sporting quite the nice leather duster, and having lost the weight he had gained doing drugs.

Ryan was the last to get to Tony, and he gave the man a huge hug, imprinting the smell of cigarettes, leather, petrichor, and cedar wood, that was his Childe into his brain.

They got down to business extremely fast.

“So, they found me.”

Tony grimaced, not liking the not of despair in his father-figure’s voice, and the hurt in his eyes.

“Yes, and I am terribly sorry Ry, I wasn’t thinking. I left my phone alone for one second to make sure Hope wasn’t drowning in her bath.”

“Hope?” Ryan cut in, his eyes narrowing. If his brother had kidnapped a child….

“Niklaus’s biological child. It seems the werewolf side in him allows him to reproduce.” Ryan frowned.

“So, I have a niece - you know what, I’ll deal with that later. How long do you think we have till that Witch breaks the spell?” Tony shrugged, his face pinched, his skin pale and wane. He clearly wasn’t feeling the best.

“I don’t know, it's been a week, it could be anytime-”

And that was when they felt the spell break, like a bubble made of glass shattering around them.

 

“ _Shit._ ” Was the general reaction of the people in the room. Even Colin could tell that something had happened, the backlash of magik was so strong, almost knocking them off their feet.

Colin may have been relatively quiet while most of the conversation between Tony and Ryan, but at this moment, he wasn’t going to keep quiet.

“Ryan, we need to think of a plan, not panic.” Colin’s determined tone caused Tony raise an eyebrow.

“Well, you’ve certainly gained some balls since the last time I saw you, mate,” Tony said, the look in his eyes showed that he thought Colin was equal parts crazy, and he was impressed by his bravery.

“Yes, but right now, Colin is right,” Greg spoke up. He was trembling, but Ryan could tell that the man was shoving his terror down as much as he could. It wouldn’t do any good.

“We most likely have about five minutes till they get here, that spell felt like it wasn’t cast too far from here.”

The three younger men nodded at Ryan, and he wanted to smile at their determination at protecting him, but knew now wasn’t the time to get sentimental all over the place.

“Colin, I want you by my side. And I want you to stay there, I don’t want them to get any chance to use you against me.” Colin nodded, showing he understood by grabbing Ryan’s left and arm and lacing their fingers together, clutching it tightly. Ryan smiled softly at his mate, kissing him gently on the lips, rubbing the back of the hand holding his with his thumb.

“I love you,” Ryan whispered, putting all that he felt into his eyes and words, looking deep into Colin’s chocolate brown orbs.

“I love you too, always and forever.” Colin kissed him gently again, putting just as much emotion in his words and kiss.

Turning to the other two men, he pointed to Greg.

“Greg, I want you to stick with Tony, stand slightly behind us, I want you to be the second thing they look at, I don’t want Nik taking his anger out on Tony, and by the feel of that earthquake you just did by _accident_ , you certainly have the power to protect him and yourself from my brothers, if not only till I can help you myself. I need to keep an eye on Colin, Elijah and Nik. From what Tony has told me Eli has a habit of ripping hearts from chests, literally. I need to make sure he doesn’t try that with us.”

The next few minutes ticked by slowly, and they stood there in their respective places in tense silence, Ryan gripping Colin’s hand and nuzzling his nose into the man’s hair. He breathed in heavily, imprinting the scent of his mate to his brain in case this ended one of two ways. With his death, or with his mates’ death. But then, he wouldn’t live that long without his mate in the first place. But he would die with his loves scent in his mind.

 The minute there was a polite knock on the door, everyone tensed. Ryan didn’t respond to it, not sure what to make of the polite knock, not expecting that type of arrival of his brothers. The second knock came, and Ryan was not sure what his brothers were playing at.

 “Are you going to let us in, big brother?” Ryan closed his eyes tightly. He hadn’t heard his favorite brothers voice in a millennium, and the smooth, deep British tenor that he himself had hidden when he had become Ryan Lee Stiles, pierced through him like a bullet. He had missed his brother, and despite the massive amount of blood that painted his family’s legacy, they were still his family. They were still the siblings he raised from birth while his mother worked for their food, and their father ran their village. They were still the young children that looked up to him, trusted him, and loved him. It was ingrained in him to care for them. And despite their bloody trail through history, he still loved them.

“It’s unlocked.” Ryan whispered, knowing that they could hear him loud and clear. Colin’s hand tightened on his Ryan’s, and the tall man crooned gently in the Canadians ear.

The door opened slowly, like one of those horror movies from the nineties, and he could hear footsteps coming towards the living room, before his brothers walked into the room. Their hair was shorter then he remembered, and Elijah had on an expensive suit, while Nik had more casual, but no less expensive clothes. Ryan wasn’t surprised. They clearly had to gain some wealth from both their tyranny, and living so long. Just as he had, only without the first bit.

“Hello Brother. It’s been awhile.” Elijah’s voice brought another wave of emotion to the tall comedian’s heart. He didn’t know what to think, as he had thought that his brothers would be mad with rage when they found him, though he had done no wrong to them, he hadn’t even seen them in a thousand years. Other than giving up finding them.

Elijah coughed lightly, and he realized he had been staring at his brothers for longer than necessary.

“Elijah… Nik…” Ryan said, hiding his nerves behind the mask he so often wore when confronted with anything stressful. He pulled Colin closer to him subconsciously, and Elijah and Nik noticed this immediately.  Nik raised an eyebrow, his lips turning up in a smirk.

“Found yourself a bed-warmer, brother?” Ryan growled, noticing Colin stiffen, and pulled him into his arms, Colin’s back to his chest.

“ _Never call Colin a Bed-warmer._ He is my mate, and we have been married for _22 years_.” Ryan grit out.

Both of his brothers raised their eyebrows, and Elijah smiled.

“It is nice to know you have found your eternal partner, brother. I wish you both happiness.” Nik nodded his agreement, Ryan guessed, at Elijah’s words, then noticed the two men behind Ryan.

“Hello Anthony. Nice to see you awake, sorry for the vervain,” Nik frowned. “But you hid my brother from us, and I would not let you stop us from finding him.” Nik’s eyes turned towards Greg. “And you,” Nik took a deep breath through his nose.

“You smell like _power_.” Greg stiffened, and grit his teeth. He didn’t like the glint in the Hybrid’s eye, not one bit.

“Forget it amigo, I ain’t joining your little boy-band of minions.”  Nik frowned, and Ryan took a step towards him, a snarl on his lips, careful of the man in his arms.

“You will not touch him, he isn’t yours, or anyone’s to use.”  Elijah stepped between them, ever the peacemaker, and raised his arms.

“We are not here to fight, simply to talk. Isn’t that right, Niklaus?” Elijah gave a glare to Nik, making sure he understood that his attitude and usual habits were not to be tolerated. When Nik nodded his understanding, Elijah turned toward Ryan, giving him a genuine smile.

“Now, Ryleian, I believe it is time for us to catch up.”

 

* * *

 

 

The tense atmosphere could be cut with a knife as they all sat down in Ryan’s living room, Ryan and Colin sitting almost in each other’s laps, they were so close on the couch closest to the door, Greg and Tony sitting on the same couch, with Greg at Colin’s side, and Tony bracketing Greg, it was a clear signal to the two other Originals in the room that the two Vampires were protecting the two human members of their little group.

Elijah and Nik were sitting on the loveseat right across from them, the living room table between them, the solid marble being a barrier between the two groups. If they were all human, it would have been reassuring, but the fact was, in the path of a determined Vampire, that table was like a feather, and in the path of a Warlock, the inlaid quartz wolves carved into the expensive marble coffee table would be a conduit for their magik, making it both an enhancer and a easily moved object, with the flick of a wrist and a mutter of a spell. That was, in fact, the main reason Ryan had that table specially made for himself, in-case he needed a power boost at home, or needed a heavy weapon for a non-supernatural entity. That plan was good at the time he made it 18 years ago, but now it was only a hindrance. Ryan knew though, that he could use it for one thing right now, and so concentrating carefully as to not attract his brother’s attention, he tapped his fingers twice gently on his leg, something that could easily been a nervous tick, and silently cast a spell, drawing on the power of the quartz wolves in the table, wrapping it around the room, his house, and his friends. His spell did three things;

One, it stopped anyone outside of the house hearing anything happening in the house, or if they peaked through the windows, they would forget what they saw and walk away, suddenly remembering something else they had to do, and go about doing it. 

Two, nobody would be able to leave this room but himself and his friends unless he willed it, and even with his death, that wouldn’t be stopped.

Three, he placed a layer of protection around his friends and husband that would last for as long as he willed it to, and again, it wouldn’t stop if he died.

One might say he was paranoid, but a millennium of living as someone that could and had made enemies as easily as breathing, he had a certain respect for carefulness, and the need to use it in spades.

“So,” Nik started, breaking the tense silence. “A Comedian. An… Improvisor, and Actor. What an _interesting_ choice of lifestyle.” Nik starting, his face screwing up at his words, as if he couldn’t fathom what he was saying about Ryleian.

Ryleian scowled, his mouth tightening, and he could feel Colin’s scowl from beside him.

“Ah yes,” Ryan replied, his sarcastic and harsh tone clearly unnerving everyone in the room; his friends and husband had never heard that level of harshness in his voice when he was speaking to someone. His brothers, on the other hand, only knew him as someone who treated them with a gentle hand and voice, a loving, stable older brother that never raised his voice or snapped at them, a sweet young man that was always happy and soft-spoken. Well, he had changed over a thousand years, his bitterness at being buried and left to dig his way out of a crude grave, his bitterness at not being able to find his family, at knowing his father had turned on them so spectacularly, and his hurt and anger at the bloody path through history his siblings had made. The same children he raised to know right from wrong, to know not to hurt those that did not hurt them, that had done no wrong, to be kind to all those who needed it, to forgive and to heal. They had taken his lessons and thrown them away like trash.

“Ah yes, and what about you, younger brother, a tyrant, a dictator, a murderer, an insane megalomaniac. What an _interesting_ choice yourself.”

Nik seemed to startle at his words before he smiled, yet everyone could tell there was no humor in it, his eyes seemed _empty_ somehow. It made Ryan shiver minutely, and caused Colin to flinch when those eyes shifted to him.

“Yes. I suppose my millennium-long bath of blood could be called… interesting. Your lucky, you know.” The abrupt change of topic caused Ryan to shift, and everyone’s eyes snapped to the Hybrid. Elijah, Ryan noticed, had a pitying, and knowing look in his eyes when he looked at Nik.

Colin tilted his head, his adorable brown eyes piercing into Nik’s.

“Why is Ryan lucky?” Colin inquired, a note of steel in his voice, ready to defend Ryan’s honour in a split second, if required. Ryan smiled gently at him, but his smile disappeared at Nik’s reply.

“Because you love him back. He has a mate that loves him back, sticks by him even with his vampirism.” Nik frowned, his eyes dropping to the floor, and Ryan could tell that this went further than what Nik was saying. “Not all of us are so lucky.” The mood abruptly shifted, Elijah taking over the conversation.

“Ryleian,” Ryan frowned.

“Its Ryan now, Elijah. It has been for 27 years. I haven’t used that name in over a thousand years. For good reason.”

“ _Ryan_ ,” Elijah correcting himself, “what have you been doing for a millennium. We had no idea you were even alive, before we decided to check Anthony’s phone after one of his many calls to what he called, ‘his father overseas’. It was strange, you see, that he would call someone, who to our knowledge had been dead for many years. We looked you up on the internet, and what a surprise it was to see our supposedly dead oldest elder brother, not only famous and well known, but _aging_ , like a human. Which bring us another mystery. You don’t look 54, in fact, you look the same as when you died, dear brother. Not to mention, your husband and Warlock friend look to young to be the age they were told to be on the website we searched at… one _wonders_ if perhaps… you have something like Niklaus. A certain _Hybrid_ quality to yourself.”  Ryan could tell everyone was interested in this answer, as he reminded himself that he never did answer Greg’s question on the existence of his magik.

Ryan took a breath, knowing that his answer, well it was all he knew, most likely wouldn’t be the answer Elijah or Nik would want.

“From what I can gather,” Ryan’s voice had slowly started reverting to his native accent, and he could tell by the slight shock on Colin’s side of their mating link, that his smooth European, sounding something like a British accent, but more ancient, was back in full swing, just from the short time of being in his brother’s proximity. 

“When the ritual went wrong, at least for me, it was because my magik was too strong for the Vampirism to completely snuff it out. So, from what I can guess, it put me in a coma, and with no heartbeat, pulse or need to breath, it appeared that I had died a permanent death, and the ritual didn’t work.” Ryan scowled, and his jaw clenched, his magik shooting out of his control for a split second, that being enough to shatter a glass in his liquor cabinet, the same one Greg got the whisky out of. He twitched his hand, and the glass reformed. All the eyes in the room turned to him, some wide and shocked, others, like his Husbands, were warm and reassuring.

Ryan smiled humorlessly. His eyes held a dark, dead glint in them, a hint of madness that he kept largely concealed when he was around anyone peeking out from behind half-closed lids.

“Waking up in a crudely dug grave, having to _claw_ your way through the dirt, not understanding what was going on, your memory not working under the panic, and the instinctual reaction to being underground, _knowing_ that you have to have air to live, your memory blank of what happened before you were buried, the panic clouding all reason, all memory that you no longer needing to breath, grasping, digging, _punching_ your way to the surface, finally breaking through, your throat _burning_ , that being the _only_ thing driving you, wanting to stop the pain, the _agony_ of the burn shooting through your throat and stomach, the animalistic urges, the blind, _unthinking frenzy_ of a someone who is hungry, wanting to fill that, but not knowing what to do to succeed in that, stumbling through a forest, coming upon a small camp twenty people, the raging hunger encompassing you, the smell of something that smelt _so good_ , and acting and ripping into the throats of people you would have once _helped_ , have befriended, draining them of all their life, of their _vitality_ , and only stopping once every _man, woman and child_ , who only could have been _fifteen summers old_ , was dead, empty eyes staring from pale faces, lifeless _husks_ of what were one _innocent_ people trying to survive. The _confusion_ , momentarily, on what had just happened, not understanding what you had just _done,_ until the hunger and burn is gone, and with the burn and panic gone, so comes back the memories of what you _once were_ , and what you had _now become_ , what you had just _done_ , the _lives_ you had taken to sate the thirst of what was _once_ a man, and was _now_ a _monster_.”

Ryan could feel the horror from everyone in the room. When he told Greg, Colin and Tony of his first memory’s after waking up immortal, he had never went into depth of his experience, other than admitting to killing twenty people, but he kept the details from them, the trauma it caused him. Now that they knew, he could tell that they were shocked that he could have skipped over the events so casually.

“Ry,” Ryan ignored Colin, only squeezing his hand to tell him to be quiet for a moment.

“Sorry about the glass,” Ryan spoke, his voice dead, causing the room to chill noticeably.

“But I believe that something in me might have broken that day. And while I’m not as broken as I once was, I am not who you remember, Elijah, Niklaus. You're still family, and I love all of you, I raised you all from infancy, fed you goats milk when mother was too busy to feed you from her breast.”

“I won't claim complete sanity, and I won't claim sainthood. Because I am not a saint. I have done things I’m not proud of to survive. To protect my friends, who have become my family. But that is my point, Niklaus.” Ryan’s eyes gained a mad glint that his Husband and his friends had only seen glimpses of throughout their knowing each-other. Ryan leaned closer, his tall body almost reaching across the marble table.

“I did it to _survive_ , to _protect_.” Ryan growled, trying to show Nik a lesson he should have been there to teach him from the beginning. He could feel his tight hold on his emotions, the ones that he was told by everyone around him that he hid, loosening. He hid most of them for a reason. his mind wasn't the most stable place, nor were his emotions, after so many years of being alone and unloved.  

“You only did it to gain _power_ , and spread _fear_. A _true_ tyrant.”

A mad gleam in his eyes lit up with vicious vigor, stronger than before, and as the crackling, _electric_ feel of _Ryleian Stial Mikaelson’s_ magik, the Original Warlock Hybrid rose to his feet, letting go of Colin’s hand. His eyes glowed even greener than they already did with _immense_ power that outshone _any_ Witch, Warlock, Druid, Sorceress or Sorcerer now or in _history_. The heady, dangerous feel of Ryleian’s magik, of his _immense unbridled_ magic exuding from him in _waves_ , had them all rooted to their seats, Greg stared in _awe_ of the amount of power that this one man possessed, and thanked the gods and goddesses that he was on their side, despite that, the complete madness in Ryan’s- _no, he was Ryleian at this moment_ \- eyes terrified him, despite it being directed at only his blood brothers.

Colin knew his husband was powerful, if not in presence, then in actual, supernatural power. He could only gaze in shock and wonder at the waves of _protective_ magik, both aggressive, and possessive at one, _flowed_ from his tall husband’s body. He could feel the _raw need_ to protect them that Ryleian felt for them not only at this moment, but all the time. He felt love coming from his husband from under all that _madness_ and protective rage. He had seen glimpses of his lover’s madness before, when certain things were said around or to him, or when something would trigger it and make the mad glint in his eyes appear. It used to scare Colin when he first met Ryan, but a small comment from one of his friends that he had lost touch with long ago, made him rethink it. Vince had said he had seen the _same_ look in many an old soldier’s eyes in his career as a trauma councillor. He had also seen the same look in men that come back from war with only themselves, an instinctive need to protect what is close to them after so long of being alone and without anyone to care for. He had seen the same glint in Ryan’s eye that he had seen in kidnapping victims that had someone with them, a _feral_ need to protect what had become their sanity and reason for living.

Vince had warned Colin that that glint caused many a person he had seen with it to become _violently_ protective, going so far as to _kill_ to protect what that person deemed as theirs. Colin assured his friend he would be careful, and now that Colin thought about it, he remembered plenty of times, both in the past, and more recently, moments that Ryan would come home with spots of blood on his coat shirt or face, that he would always pass off as a stress nosebleed, something that Colin would fret over. It always came after seeing the news were an escaped convict was out, or a murderer was loose. Sometimes, they would catch them, but more often they would find them dead, passing it off as and animal attack, or they would never find them at all. Colin guessed that now, they would _never_ find the bodies of the missing people.

Tony was in awe of the power his father figure exuded. Ryleian had told him that he was powerful, and he believed him, but he never thought that the man was an equivalent of thirty nuclear bombs.

 Elijah and Niklaus were terrified, they had never seen their brother lose his temper like this before, nor had they known that their brother was this powerful.

“You listen to me _brothers_ ,” Ryleian’s voice was no louder than it normally was, the smooth accent soft as silk, his voice predatory and dangerous, his eyes lit with protective insanity.

“If you think of touching, harming, using, killing, upsetting, _anything_ I don’t approve of, you think of doing _anything_ to my husband, Greg, Tony, or _any_ of my human family,” Ryleian’s already impressive height seemed to grow even taller towering over them with oppressive force.

“If you step one _toe out of line_ , I may love you, and you may be my family, but I will _not allow_ you to hurt the one I have made my own. _They_ were there for me when _you_ were not, and if you hurt them, I will _double_ that pain and put it on _you_. I will disappear with all of them, and you will _never see me again_. _Do we have an accord_?”  

 Elijah whispered out of dry lips; “Yes, I believe we understand perfectly.”

Nik nodded, his eyes wide, sweat on his brow, visibly trembling.

“Yes, we have an accord.”

The magik that was flowing freely in the room disappeared so suddenly it caused all but Ryan to flinch.

Ryan sat back down, a genial smile on his face.

“ _Well_ , now that we understand each-other, we can get to the rest of my story.” And Ryan did, telling the rest of his history to Nik and Elijah. Over the course of the explanation, they all relaxed, intrigued by the story of Ryan’s travels through history, a few more details this time then before, but they could all tell that he was avoiding big parts of his history, that most likely caused some sort of trauma. Trauma that put that madness that they all so in _all its glory_ not moments before.

 

* * *

 

 

“We’ve talked through the night, _bloody hell_.” Tony grumbled.

Ryan jerked at that, turning his head towards the window. He noticed in shock that dawn was just beginning to peak over the tops of the trees, and he swore colorfully, causing raised eyebrows all around.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me the sun was coming up!”

Raised eyebrows all around, for the second time, and Ryan growled in frustration, as the sun began to enter the room, he noticed nobody in the room was going to attempt to close the curtains, so he jumped up, readying himself for a world of pain, and let out a hoarse scream when he sped to the curtains and slammed them shut, the blackout curtains blocking out any sunlight, the only light in the room being the antique hand painted Chinese porcelain lamp.

Ryan dropped to his knees when the sunlight left the room, his skin that was exposed to the light smoking, the smell of burnt flesh filled the room, and he whimpered. Hissing through his teeth, he startled, whimpering again at the sudden movement, when he felt a gentle touch to his shoulder, relaxing when he smelt the familiar scent of lavender, chocolate, and the ocean on a sunny, breezy day, that was his mate.

“Ry, are you ok?” Colin asked, his hand rubbing along Ryan’s back. Ryan nodded, letting out a breath as his skin healed the last of the burns from the damned sun.

“I’m fine, love. Thank you.” Ryan smiled gently at the love of his immortal life, Colin staring deeply into his eyes, the deep love swirling in their depths capturing his complete attention as the often did.

“I don’t mean to break the Eye-Fucking you to are so determined to show us, but, _What the fuck Ryan_?” Greg’s words snapped Ryan out of his reverie, jarring Ryan from his thoughts.

“What?” The tall man snapped, completely unhappy at being pulled from Colin’s eyes. Greg raised his eyebrows, completely unimpressed at his grumpiness, knowing that his anger would never be turned toward him like it was turned toward the Wolf Hybrid and the other younger Original.

“I’m pretty sure you were able to walk in the sunlight just fine yesterday Ryan, so why the hell did you almost turn into the world's first comedian crispy biscuit?” Greg’s sarcastic tone caused Tony to snicker, having missed the man's dry sarcastic humor since he had been away. But the question was valid. Ryan didn’t want any of them to feel guilty, so he had avoided the question about sunlight before.

“I don’t have the ability to make a daylight ring.” Ryan raised his hands at the disbelieving looks he was shot. He didn’t blame them, after power show he just displayed.

“ _Really_. That power show was wild magik, don’t get me wrong, I could put you all on your ass and in a world of pain without breaking a sweat, but that’s just my wild magik, I can grasp wild magik like a whore can grasp a cock. But really, making a daylight ring? That takes internal magik that I don’t have in me right now…” Ryan paused, unsure if he wanted to reveal just how far he took protection of his human family, not only to them, but to his blood family as well. He didn’t want the guilt from his adopted family, nor the derision of his blood family to blanket him.

“I am the most powerful Magik user that ever existed, but right now, my internal power is being used to keep all my human family young, and safe. Protection after protection is layered over all of you.” And speaking of that, the burning in his throat that was steadily growing pulled full force to the front of his mind, and he growled. Walking to his liquor cabinet, he opened the locked drawer that doubled as a fridge, and grabbed a bag of O+. ripping the cap off and throwing it somewhere in the room, he drank deeply. It was only when he finished that he remembered the last time he fed, and Colin’s reaction to it.  His eyes snapped towards Colin, but the only reaction he could sense was towards his words, not his actions.

“Dammit Ryleian!” Elijah shouted, startling both Ryan, and Nik, as well as Tony. Elijah rarely, if ever raised his voice at anyone. He was usually well composed and suave, keeping his calm in all situations. Except when he ripped out people's hearts.

“You shouldn’t exert your magik like that, you should know that from mother’s lessons.” Elijah ran his hands through his perfectly coiffed hair.

Greg nodded, looking reluctant to agree with someone he saw as an enemy.

“He’s right Ry-guy, keeping that kind of power going for a couple of months would drain the average Magik user, a couple of years would almost kill a powerful one, but _22 years_?” Greg screwed his face up, his nose wrinkling adorably. “Dude, you should be dead. Original vampire or not, you should have been grey and desiccated over a decade ago, man.” Ryan chuckled tiredly.

“You forget, Gregory, that I’m not just powerful, I’m practically a god, in terms of magik levels. Unfortunately, even gods have their limits, and the best I can do about my sunlight problem is a temporary spell that lasts from dawn till dusk, depending on the time of year. Though, if you're volunteering to create a ring for me…” Greg grinned, and shook his head with a grin on his lips.

“All you had to do was ask Ry. One daylight ring coming up, just hand me your Celtic one, the one you never take off.” Ryan twisted it off his finger, memories of the day that Colin gave it to him on their first date running through his head.

“Ryan?” Ryan looked to Colin, a smile on his lips at the adorable look on his husband’s face.

“Thank you, for keeping us all safe, and loving us like you do.”  Ryan just pulled Colin into a hug, the answer in the way he held him.

“Well, loving the love fest, but one question,” Ryan grabbed the now complete ring from Greg, and after putting it on, used a bit of lazy magik to open the curtains. Then he turned to Nik, who had spoken.

“What’s that, little brother?” Nik scowled at being called ‘little’, but let it go.

 

“What happens now?”

 

Ryan startled at the question, his brain coming up blank. To tell the truth, he had no idea what would happen now; For one thing, he did not want to leave his human family, not even for his blood one. He would rather let himself burn in the sunlight before abandoning the family that he had known for so many years. The family that he had grown to care for, dare he say it, more then his blood one. On the other hand, Ryan didn’t want to completely abandon Nik and the rest of his blood family either. He had not seen them in so long that it was like something of a miracle. But then, he thought, looking at them now, on how defensively they all sat, how they were guarded when they were once open, stiff when once relaxed.

One thousand years of not seeing someone can change a lot, and now as Ryan looked at his two Favorite blood brothers, he realized, past his initial feelings of connection to them were just what he forced his body to feel, and behind that, was the true feelings of looking at strangers he may have met a few times, but didn't know much about. Like when parents get a divorce and the once five-year-old, now 15, meets the father, and knows that yes, they are related, and were once very close, but now they were like strangers, completely different, with no interaction during those ten years to be there for those changes.

“Ry?” Colin’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, as he was oft to do, and he looked at his husband, his eyebrows raised.

Colin bit his lip, nibbling on the soft tissue, the thoughts going through his head were loud and determined, the half of his sensible brain, the part that he shut off when on stage to help with his stage fright, was telling him to get away from this situation, that the danger could kill him. But the part of his brain that would do anything at all to the man he married 20 years ago, the man with the charming smile with the adorable gap in his teeth he tried to hide, the man with golden curls and loving green eyes, the love of his life, was telling him to make this work. Because he could tell that Ryan loved his blood family, the one he was born into over a thousand years ago.

He decided to listen to his loving brain.

“I-I have an idea,” Colin started, looking up at the tall man he was currently curled into the side of.

“What if, we go with them, temporarily, to their place, in New Orleans, What if we visit them for a bit, since we’re done filming for the year, and just... get to know your family?”

Ryan thought for a moment, before nodding.

“Sounds -” Ryan started, but Nik spoke over him, his voice strained.

“We were planning to move to LA in the first place, before we found out about you. The Witches in Orleans are getting too annoying for our tastes, by that I mean that they are terrorising our family. LA seemed like a wonderful place to start over, to lose ourselves in the crowds.”  

Greg cleared his throat, and they turned to look at him.

“I have to get home, Jeff is going to wonder where I’ve been,” The Warlock smiled fondly, his eyes softening.

“My poor husband is probably ready to call the fuzz, not that the idiot ever remembers to call me…”

Ryan nodded, standing at the same time as Greg, and walking over to him to embrace the shorter man.

“I want you to tell him about you, and tell him about me. That’s an order.” Ryan added in a commanding tone, seeing Greg’s protest in his eyes before his mouth even began to open.

“He needs to know. We are going to tell the rest of them soon as well. They have a right to know what I did to them, and they have a right to decide whether they want to keep their memories of it as well.”

Nik suddenly stood up, Elijah following behind him.

“We must get going as well, brother. We will be in contact.” Elijah’s eyes turned to Tony, who shrunk under the weight of the Original’s gaze.

“Tony will stay with you. He will be our go-between.” As soon as Elijah was finished his sentence, they were gone, the door closing behind them.

Greg turned to Ryan, his eyebrow raised significantly.

“I can tell they aren’t one for long goodbyes.” Greg sighed, “I better get going. Gotta make sure Jefferson isn’t having a panic attack and ruining that perfectly good brain of his.”

Ryan nodded, giving Greg one last hug, the embrace full of words unsaid, but just as meaningful as if they were said aloud.

Greg embraced Colin, then left, navigating his way to the front door. He silently put a spell on the house that undid the invitation for the two Original vampires. He did not want them sneaking in while his brothers were asleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Where have you been?!” came the screech when Greg entered the penthouse.  Greg cringed, rubbing his ears.

“I was with Ryan and Colin, they had some people over, we talked through the night.” Greg said, wrapping his arms around his seething husband, holding him tight.

“I was so worried...” Jeff said quietly. Suddenly Jeff pulled out of Greg’s arms, looking at his face, and stiffened.

“Greg, you’re- Oh my God, what-” Greg suddenly had a burst of thought, and realized that in his rush to get home to Jeff he had forgot to ask Ryan to put the spell back on him that made him look his chronological age. Oops.

“Uh, I can explain-” Jeff glared at him, his eyes narrowed, his lips tight and frowning. Greg hated to have Jefferson mad at him, it made him upset, knowing that he made the love of his life worry about him so much he would fly into a seething rage.

“Then explain it to me. Right now.”

Greg shrugged, rubbing his neck sheepishly, before looking at Jeff, a shit-eating grin on his face.

 

“I’m a Warlock?”

* * *

 

 

Jeff knew his husband went out at unusual hours sometimes, but he never failed to contact him if he wasn’t going to be home overnight. it never occurred to Jeff to ever contact Greg himself, he never did, his hummingbird mind flitting from one thought to the next, wondering what could have happened, why did Greg stay out all night? Was he ok? What happened?

Greg’s entrance and explanation caused him to calm down, but the feeling of less Greg, more hair, and smoother skin, and a higher voice caused him to _look_ at the man he married 15 years ago. Only to see his husband looking like he just walked out of the man’s early thirties. His demanded explanation was met with an even more unbelievable answer.

“I’m a Warlock?” Greg shrugged, sheepishly looking up at him through his long lashes, his hair curlier than it's ever been since they met, falling into his light brown eyes.

The eyes he fell in love with.

The eyes that were completely serious.

Jeff choked on a laugh, his throat drying up.

“W-what? A Warlock? Greg, what the hell-” Jeff stuttered.

Greg pushed forward into Jeff’s personal space, so close he could smell his breath, breath that had not a hint of alcohol on it, just a bit of Coffee and Altoid mints. No reason to think his lover was drunk. But that didn't mean he wasn't high. Greg had promised he had stopped using the heavier stuff, Sticking to Hash and his usual alcohol. But a _Warlock_? Greg had to be on _something_.

“I’ll prove it to you.” Greg’s eyes bored into his own, and Jeff saw the complete conviction in his eyes. He really believed that he could prove that he was something straight out of D&D.

“Look, Hun, it’s been a long night, why don't you just lay down-” Jeff started, convincing himself that Greg was sleep deprived or on a big high, and everything would just go back to normal once he slept off whatever was in his system.

Greg allowed Jeff to Drag him as far as the kitchen, a total of ten feet from the door in their open plan penthouse, before forcing Jeff to let go.

“I can _prove_ it, Jefferson, just-” Jeff lost his patience, and he felt tears prickling behind his suddenly wet eyes, his cheeks flushed with anger, but his eyes showed his hurt.

“ _No._ You _promised me._ You said when we got married 15 years ago you would stop with the hard stuff. That you would stick to weed and limit your drinking and not get smashed every night.” Jeff sobbed, scrubbing at his eyes, the tears that were once pricking at his eyes now became a river, flowing down his face.

“ _You_ _promised me, Greg._ On our Wedding Day, we wrote our own vows…”

** Fifteen Years ago **

** July 31st, 1999 **

Jeff considered the light brown eyes of the man he was about to marry, and though it wouldn’t be recognized by the government, both of them didn't care. neither of them cared for the government, or their rules, something that gave them their first conversation when they first met. Who knew that a simple introduction from a certain giant of a man 6 years ago would lead to this.

“Gregory Everett Proops. I remember when we first met, and bonded over a bottle of vodka and mutual anger at being tricked into a blind date by Ryan. At the time, I looked at that day with anger at being tricked by a friend, and only a slight curiosity of the Buddy Holly look-alike who could drink vodka like it was water. Ryan kept setting us up, and over time, I began to realize that i no longer got upset over his tricks, and I was excited every time he would get an imaginary phone call from Dan for some meeting and leave the two of us together. I remember when I realized I was in love with you. Ryan had took us to some fancy restaurant late at night, and we pretended not to notice that he had rented out the place, probably spending his whole paycheck. He only stayed until he got another ‘call’ and ‘had to leave’. It was just the two of us, laughing and talking over overpriced food and even more expensive wine. You were telling me about a trip you took to Paris, on how beautiful the city was a night, the Eiffel Tower lit up… someone opened the curtains on the skylight, and lit the candle at our table, and when both the moonlight and the candlelight hit you, it made your skin glow with life, your eyes lit up, talking about the city, and I remember thinking; ‘He’s beautiful’ and I realized in that moment that i was in love with you, and I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. I would do anything for you.

I vow to be with you through sickness, through health, through good times and bad. I vow to love you forever and always, and to share laughter and fun, and always be truthful. I will do anything i can to help you when you are in need, and to be the perfect husband. I love you Greg, always and forever.” When Jeff finished, he heard a sniff, and looked into those eyes to see them full of tears, that he hoped were happy tears.

“Jeff,” Greg sniffed, his voice wet. “Shit, you’ve got me all choked up, man, I’m not supposed to cry on my wedding day... Jeez, ok,” Greg took a breath, and started his own vows, ones he took straight from the heart, just as Jeff did. Once an Improvisor, always an Improvisor.

“Jeff, When I first met you, Ryan had already been trying to hook me up with you for weeks, constantly telling me how great you were, how adorable, and kind, how self sacrificing, and how your humour meshed with mine… I remember telling him to fuck off every time, because I wouldn't believe him. Come on, someone that perfect, for me? Fuckin A man… but I didn’t believe him. I wasn't one of those guys that believe that there was someone that perfect out there, that could match me so well, like the missing piece to my awesomely good looking puzzle. But you did, and you continue to do so. I fell for you the second time we met, when Ryan and Colin set us up for the second time of many at that museum. You were looking at this crappy art thing, and I mean, I didn't see your fascination with it, it was just a bunch of paint splatters to me. But you looked beyond that, you noticed the soft lines in the strokes of paint, the colors that symbolize passion and love, and the work that went into the thing. You were so animated, the smile on you face, the passion in your eyes. I remember thinking, ‘I love this man. and I don't care.’ we have had our hard times, with my… activities. And my drinking, but Starting now, I vow to not use the hard stuff, to stick with the greens, to not come home smashed six out of seven days in the week, and I vow to love you, to laugh with you, to care for you and be the best husband I can be, to love you, to hold you, to help you. I vow to take care of you when you are sick, to comfort you when you’re sad or hurt, and to kick the ass of whoever caused it. I vow on this day of our union, to be there for you in all aspects of life, be they good or bad, and to stay with you until my Spirit leaves this earth and even then, to watch over you from wherever I am. I love you, Jefferson”

** Present Time  **

** March 28th, 2014 **

“I never broke my vows Jefferson.” Greg’s voice pulled him out of his flashback, and he gazed at the man he loved with pleading, tear-filled eyes.

“Then why-” Jeff sobbed out, waving his hands toward Greg, “And how-” Greg spoke softly, grasping Jeff's hands in his own, younger ones.

“Let me prove it.”

Jeff absently pondered that even if it wasn't drugs, plastic surgery couldn't do this. Hell, if you took a look at most celebrities today, Plastic surgery has that stretched, ugly look like one of those anorexic models do, all pursed lips, skin pulled and stretched over bone that did not support that look. sometimes, if you looked hard enough, you could see the scars surgery left them with, a reminder that they had to bleed to get their so-called ‘Beauty’.  Jeff, call it unnatural and ugly. But Greg… his new- or old- face and body, looked natural, looked just like he did when they first met. and he knew that despite common sense, even surgery couldn’t do this. He refused to believe in wand waving and Harry Potter shit until he was shown proof.

“Then prove it. Prove to me you aren't just on some high, or got some surgery that made you look like you time traveled from the eighties,” Jeff sat down on the bar stool behind the island counter in the kitchen, and waited.

Greg shifted, rubbing his hands together.

“Usually kitten, I would float some feathers around, but for anyone not supernatural, you would just say its static whatnot or magnets. So, I’m gonna need to do something better. let’s see…” Greg pondered for a bit, thinking on what could make Jeff believe. Greg smirked; He knew exactly what he wanted to do.

* * *

 

 

Colin and Ryan were just waking up from a nap after some frantic, reassurance needing induced lovemaking, when Ryan’s phone rang.

“It’s Jeff.” Colin told him, tossing Ryan the phone from across the room after picking it out from the tall man’s hastily discarded pants. Their clothing barely made it in the room, much to the complaint of Tony, who they guessed had found some way of blocking out the sounds coming from their room, after his loud complaints had stopped ten minutes into their activities. Ryan could hear him snoring softly downstairs, the sound of old whose-line episodes from Britain coming from the TV. He could hear Clive’s missed voice saying faintly

_“....and that’s a pity, because that’s my job. Well, anyways, on to the next game, this game is for Tony, Ryan and Steve...”_

Ryan tuned back into his own room, and grabbed the phone Colin threw at him, cursing when he couldn’t get the green sliding thing to answer the call. A hand suddenly entered his field of vision, and he looked up into Colin’s smiling face. Colin slid the horrid thing and answered the call for him. A muttered thank you and a smile was all he got out before his poor vampire eardrums were almost blasted out;

“ ** _Why didn't you tell me you were a vampire, and Greg was a friggen’ Buddy Holly Harry Potter? My husband just turned my pillow into an Ocelot!_** ”

Ryan laughed; Only Greg….

* * *

 

 

“ _Finally_.” Klaus groaned as the last of the moving men and the decorators left their new home in LA.

“Thought that they would never be done. God, three months is way too long for them to take to get our mansion livable.” Elijah sighed at his brothers grumbling. He was about to remind his brother that they were humans, not Vampires, but his little sister entering the room with Hope on her hip did it for him.

“They’re human brother, and despite widespread belief,” Sarcasm leaked from her very pores at those words, her blue eyes rolling. “Humans are slower than vampires. Not to mention you decided to buy the biggest mansion you could find in such short notice, I’m surprised it didn't take them a year.”

She smiled suddenly, her eyes lighting up.

“How did it go?” She asked, practically bouncing in excitement, much to the joy of a now laughing six-month-old Hope.

Klaus looked down at his hands, rubbing them together, registering dimly that he should use some moisturizer; His hands were getting dry.

“Not… as expected. Not good...but not horrible.”

Rebekah frowned, her eyes losing their excited twinkle. “ _What did you do, Nik?_ ” She hissed, not believing that anything else was the cause for Ryleian to not come running to them with open arms and soft smiles, his green eyes bright and shining the way she remembered they would.

Elijah shot her a look, and she glared back at him, not backing down.

“For once, Niklaus was not the only one at fault.” Elijah look down, guilt etched in his face, his jaw clenched.

“It seems Ryleian has followed our bloody trail through the ages, and isn’t impressed. He is disappointed,” They all winced at that. It was always horrible when they were human to have their oldest brother disappointed at them, he would give them such a sad look, his green eyes wide and his mouth turned down, and they would crumble with guilt. “-and he is angry-” They shivered, that was even worse. “- and he has a human family now, and is married. He now goes by the name of Ryan Lee Stiles, an Actor and Comedian.”

Rebekah focused on one part of what Elijah said;

“He’s married? to whom? What’s She like? Do they have children?” Rebekah handed Hope to Nik, the baby squealing in excitement at being held by her father, before turning to Elijah again, waiting for him to answer.

Elijah hesitated, he knew his sister was no bigot, none of them were, as they would be hypocrites of the highest order if they were, as they had all indulged in affairs of the same sex more than once in their very long lives. But this was still Rebekah, and she was fiercely protective of all her siblings, and he didn't want to bring down the protective instincts of his little sister down on the soft-spoken but strong Mister Mochrie. He liked the man, from what little he saw of him last night. The balding man was good for his brother. They completed each other, two sided of the same coin, they balanced each other out, with Ryan’s fierce nature, and Colin’s peaceful one.

“ _His_ name, is Colin Andrew Mochrie, a Canadian man who he met in 1984, and married in twenty-two years ago. They don’t have children, and it seems that Ryan has kept his magik, somehow. he is currently using all his internal magik to keep all his human family young and safe. His wild magik, however…” Elijah and Klaus shivered; Just the memory of it caused them to feel chills down their spines. “He is the most powerful magik user in history, and he is terrifying when protecting what he cares about, his human family included.”

Rebekah frowned.

“You keep saying ‘Family’, why do you say that when you say he doesn’t have children?” Elijah smiled sadly. Because of their violent nature, and their reputation, his sister was surprisingly ignorant of anyone but blood being family. She didn't understand, because she never had someone outside of themselves be close enough to them to be called that. It was as sad fact, but unfortunately it was the way they lived.

“Ryan has friends that he met in the eighties and nineties, as well as up to now, that he calls family because to him, and to them as well, they are close enough to each other to call them as such. he loves them all like family, and have gone through a lot together.” Rebekah nodded slowly, her lips twisting up in thought, her eyes slightly wistful.

“Oh...That sounds nice. I’m glad he has people like that. But, he isn't replacing us, right?” Rebekah looked up at Elijah with wide, pleading eyes, and he hesitated, causing her to turn her eyes on Klaus.

“Right, Nik? We’re still his family, right?” Nik looked down at his daughter, and bounced her on his knee, much to her happiness, and she giggled.

“I- I don't know to be honest, Bekah. I’m sure he isn’t, but you must remember it's been a thousand years. Things change and Ryleian- Ryan, He’s changed a lot. I don’t think he is even completely stable to be honest, but his human family seem to ground him, especially his husband.”

Elijah nodded at his sister questioning look, confirming Nik’s words. She seemed to think for a few minutes then smiled, the twinkle back in her eyes.

“Then we will accept him for whatever choices he makes, and if that includes his human family, then we will. Besides, if anyone can make my favorite brother that happy, then they are family to me, and I will accept them. If they can make Rylee happy then they can’t be horrid.”

They all looked at each other and smiled.

Yes, they would go along with this as they went, and would see how it goes. It will turn out;

After all, they were family.

_Always and forever._

**_The End_**


End file.
